Stale Mate A Foxface fiction
by b0oRadley23
Summary: What if there was more to Foxface's death than just a mistaken handul of berries? This is the story of how Foxface really died.


Stale mate - a Foxface cannon

A small droplet of water runs along the arch of a nearby leaf, shattering the shards of light that peek through the forest canopy. The glistening catches my attention and I stare at it intensely, hoping this tiny distraction will, even if for only a minute, be enough the rescue me from the merry-go-round of bloodcurdling thoughts that skip darkly through my mind. All alone in this forest I had expected to feel safe amongst the familiar moss covered evergreens that are so similar to the ones back home, but the games change everything. The Capitol has thrown me into this relentless nightmare and all I want is out. My heart begins to pound, my chest constricts and tears well up in my eyes as I long to be back in District 5. A tiny sadistic smile flickers across my face for a split second as I note the irony of my situation. I spent all my life wishing to escape that hell hole and now that I finally have, I wish nothing more than to be back there. Back in the smog filled streets with their dark nooks and crannies that only I know make the perfect safe havens from the cruel Peace Keepers. Back in the safety of monotonous routines and away from this constant fear of the unknown. This is the part I hate the most, the insecurity that gnaws at the pit of my stomach from the uncertainty of what new horror each day of the games will bring. I wish I could somehow take back control of my life. Take back? Who am I kidding, I've never had control. I have always been nothing more than another one of the Capitol's puppets, just like everybody else in Panem.

"Crack". The sound of a breaking twig drags me away from my thoughts and places all of my senses on full alert. As my heart pounds in my chest, every single detail of my surroundings magnifies. I feel the faint tingle across my cheek as a wisp of wind breathes past. I catch the flashes of green and brown out of the corner of my eye as a leaf slowly falls to the forest floor. But most importantly, I hear the distant echo of heavy foot steps drawing steadily nearer. Cato? Katniss and her district partner? Whoever it is, they're too close for me to run from without catching their attention. I have absolutely no weapons or fighting skills so attacking is out of the question. That leaves only one option. Stay where I am and pray that they don't notice me. Disappearing into the bushes behind me I keep as low as possible, hoping the protection of the shadows will be enough to save me. Peeking cautiously through the leaves I catch a glimpse of the District 12 pair. They come to a stop next to a tree almost 20 meters from my hiding place. The muffled echo of their conversation drifts over to me, carried on the back of a soft wind, but it's too quiet for me to be able to understand. After a few moments, Katniss walks away from Peeta, who leaves his pack next to the tree and begins hunting for roots. After a while, he slowly wanders towards me, still focused on his collection task. As he draws closer and closer my body tenses and a sea of horror swells inside me.

Within just a few seconds he is directly in front of my hiding place. I hold my breath and try to quieten my shivering hands that shake with fear. He's so close I can hear him breathing. I can smell the metallic scent of blood and dirt that clings to his body. I can count every tiny scratch that cover his face. Suddenly he whips around, leaving his back facing me. I'm not sure what's caught his attention, but I know what's caught mine. A dirty knife hilt that peeks out from under his shirt. I quickly come to the realisation that for the next few seconds I hold Peeta's fate in my hands. All it would take would be for me to grab the knife while he's distracted and it'd be game over for lover boy. Quietly I prepare myself to leap out towards the knife and stab him. Taking a deep breath I begin a countdown. Three. Two. One... I go to move but a small voice in the back of my mind pulls me back. Can I really do this? Rip away a person's life to protect mine own? Is this the person the Capitol has moulded me to be? I don't want to do it and I know there is no way I can. Slipping even further back into my hiding place I wait for a few seconds before Peeta finally moves on.

Watching him leave I let out an involuntary sigh of relief, before quickly clamping my hand over my mouth. My heart skips a beat as Peeta pauses and glances around. A confused look flicks across his face but thankfully he dismisses the noise and carries on walking. Once he's out of sight I quickly run away as fast as possible, tears streaming down my face. After a few minutes I finally stop, clutching my aching chest and gasping for breath. Leaning against a tree I sink to the forest floor and hold my knees as close as possible. A series of sobs shake my body as I relive the last few moments over and over again. To be so close to being murdered and to becoming a murderer is more than I can bear. Slowly taking a breath, I try to calm my nerves. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. I soon calm down enough to begin to regather my thoughts, but I can't think what to do next. I have no food, no weapons and no plan. Suddenly I remember the pack. The pack that Peeta left unprotected at the tree. I'm running out of supplies and it may be my last chance for survival. Even though every cell in my body screams at me to stay away, I have no choice. Gathering the last of my courage I slowly turn back towards the tree. I creep as quietly as possible, keeping an ever cautious eye out for any sign of Peeta or Katniss. Finally, I reach the abandoned pack and am welcomed by a magnificent feast of cheese, apples and roots. I quickly stuff a few apples and roots into my bag, being careful to not take enough to raise any suspicions. I stare longingly at the cheese, it's delicious scent ever so tempting. Before I can even think about what I'm doing I reach down, pull off a tiny section and cram it into my mouth. It's the most amazing thing I eaten since I left the Capitol.

It feels like a lifetime has passed since then and even longer since I was back in District 5. Suddenly a wave of homesickness washes over me as a sea of memories flood back. I hate myself for missing District 5. It never offered me anything but cold nights of starvation and the sting of the whip whenever I got caught stealing from those rich, cruel Peace Keeper pigs. My longing is quickly replaced with anger as the more painful memories also resurface. Like the faces of my family when I was reaped. They weren't shocked or upset. They were too busy feeling relieved for themselves that they weren't picked. There's no such thing as love where I come from. We live in a world centred around the saying 'every man for himself'.

A muffled rustle of leaves reminds me of the danger I'm in and I turn to leave before anyone notices me. Then, out of the corner of my eye I spot a pile of berries lying on a jacket. Reaching down I scoop up a small handful and begin my escape. As I dash away I glance down at the berries in my hand. I stop suddenly as I realise what they are. Nightlock. Standing exposed in a clearing I stare at the handful, ignoring my brain screaming at me how stupid this is to do. Surely Peeta isn't so dumb as to pick nightlock? I pinch one of the berries, piercing it's dark skin and watch as the characteristic blood red juice seeps out. Yup, it's definitely nightlock. Suddenly, a plan begins to form in my head. A plan unlike any other. Not a plan for winning the Hunger games, but rather a plan that will set me free. I know that there's no way I can win the games and even if I could, I don't know if I want to. All I want is to escape the control of the Capitol, but I don't want to be just another tribute victim. If I have to die, I want to die on my own terms. Slowly, I lift my shaking hand to my mouth. As the first berries touch my lips, I close my eyes and prepare to meet my freedom. Trembling, I bite down, spilling the sweet tangy juice over my tongue. I feel the poison seep into my body and a sensation of peace sweeps over me. With I tiny smile I begin to fall. As I hit the ground the last thing I hear is the echo of the cannon. I'm free. 


End file.
